The shockin news withaat a joak.
For soin the rain i’ torrent fell,
And o what awful news to tell,
It lookt as claads wur baan to shutter,
For every dyke, an’ ditch, an’ gutter,
A regeler deluge did resemble.
Which made the Haworth folk to tremble.
Sum tried to stop its course wi’ stones,
An’ sum dropt on their marrow bones,
An’ hoped that if the world wur draaned,
The railway wud be saafe an’ saand.
But prayers like theas hed no avail,
For th’ waters deluged all the vale;
An’ th’ latest news ’at I heerd
Th’ railway’s nearly disappear’d;
But if it’s fun withaat a flaw,
Wha, folks, I’m like to let you know.
CHAPTER III
“Work, Boys, and be Contented.”
Ha, it’s all varry weel for th’ poit to sing that, but if he hed a railway at stake he wud happen alter his tune, an’ espeshully if he wur an eye witness nah, for th’ storm wur ragin’ at th’ heyest, an’ th’ folks wur waiting wi’ pashent expectashun to know whether it wur baan to be at an end or nut, for th’ flooid wur cumin’ daan thicker an faster, an’ thare look’d to be monny hundred mile o’ watter in th’ valley. Hawsumever thay muster’d all th’ energy thay could, for thay wur determined to know th’ worst, so thay went to see if thay could find th’ oud weather-gazer, at hed proffesied th’ flooid; an’ after a good deal o’ runnin’ abaat, thay fan him peepin’ throo summat at shap of a tunnil, sum sed he wur lookin’ at mooin, others sed he wur lookin’ into futurity, hawsumever thay axt him to cum daan an’ look at th’ railway, an’ tell ’em whether th’ flooid wur baan to tak it away or not, but th’ saucy oud haand refused at first, for he sed at he wur flaid at sum on em wodn’t be able to stand th’ shock if he tell’d em th’ warst, so the oud lad sed,
If my advice yo want, poor things,
An’ cannot do withaat it,
Go arm yorseln to th’ teeth, he sed,
An’ doant be long abaat it;
Both rakes an’ powls an’ props an’ ropes
Yo cannot get ta sooin,
An’ take the Cowinheaders’ plan
When thay discovered th’ mooin.
Doant gape abaat, but when arm’d
Tak each a different rowt,
An’ let yor cry be ivery man,
Th’ poor railway’s up the spout.
It wurnt long afore thay gat arm’d – sum wi’ clothes props, muk forks, ropes an’ so on, an’ thare wur sum competition yo mind, for thay wur all tryin wich cud mak best movement so as thay cud immortalise thair names it th’ history of Haworth, for thare wur wun Joe Hobb, a handloom weaver, browt his slay boards, and as he wur goin’ daan th’ hill he did mak sum manœvures yo mind, for talk abaat fugal men i’ th’ army wen thay throw thair guns up into th’ air an’ catches em agean, thay wur nowt ta Joe, for he span his slay boards up an’ daan just like a shuttlecock. But wal this wur goin’ on th’ storm began to abate, and th’ water seemed to get less, but still thay kept at it. Wal at last a chap at thay called Dave Twirler shaated aat at he saw summat, and thay look’t way at he pointed, and thare behold it wur won o’th’ ribs o’th’ railway stickin’ up, here a dead silence tuk place which lasted for abaat three haars, for nobody durst oppen thair maath, flaid at th’ wind wud mak th’ current stronger, an’ sum o’th’ wimmen held thair tungs to that pain and misery wal thair stockings fell down ower thair clog tops; but hasumever th’ silence wur brokken by a Haworth Parish chap ’at they call Bob Gimlet, he happen’d to be thare an’ he said, na lads, look daan th’ valley, for I think I see th’ skeleton at ony rate, an’ Bob wur reight, for it wur as plain to be seen as an elephant in a shop winder.
An’ this wur a fact, it wur th’ railway thay saw,
An’ at th’ first o’th’ spectre thay all stood in awe,
For it wur smashed all i’ pieces ashamed to be seen
As tho it hed passed throo a sausidge masheen,
Wi’ horror sum fainted while others took fits,
An’ theas ’at cud stand it wir piking up th’ bits.
But after a while when thay all becum calm,
Thay gathered together like bees in a swarm,
Resolved to pick up all th’ fragments an’ th’ wood,
An’ splice ’em together as weel as thay cud,
Hasumever thay started a putting it streight,
An’ wi spelking and braying thay soin made it reight.
Six months nah elapsed, an’ th’ gert job wur done,
An’ th’ next thing to argue wur wen it sud run;
So thay sent Joe a Stirks araand wi his bell,
An’ gave him strict orders at he wur to tell
At th’ inspector hed been an’ examined it throo,
An’ cum to th’ conclusion at th’ railway wud do.
So to wark wi’ a vengeance, the bellman set to
To warn up a meeting at th’ Black Bull,
It wod a dun yo all good to hear Joey shaat,
For thay heard him distinctly for miles all abaat,
For i’ less ner ten minits, thay flockt so fast,
While Jonny Broth’s horses thay cudnt get past.
So thay framed on wi’ th’ meeting an’ th’ chairman spak first,
An’ tell’d ’em at th’ railway wur finish’d at last,
An’ declared at th’ inspector hed passed when he cum
Both viaducts an’ bridges as saand as a plum;
As for sinkin’ agean thay wud do nowt o’th’ sort,
For thay sailed throo th’ arches i’ Marriner Boat.
So he hoped i’ this meeting thay all wud agree,
An’ settle when th’ oppening o’th’ railway sud be,
He thout for his part tho he nobbut wur one,
At first day o’ April wur t’ fittest to run,
Wen a voice sed, sit daan or I’ll pelt thee wi spoils,
Duz ta think at wur baan to be April foils?
Then up on to th’ platform jump’d Red Dicky Brook,
Along wi his uncle, Black Tom at Dyke Nook,
Determined to sattle an’ bring things araand,
As th’ railway wur finished, both proper an’ saand;
So thay pitched on a day, it wur April the fourth,
To oppen th’ grand railway fra Lundon to Haworth.
It wur carried as usual, bi th’ showin’ o’ hands,
Amidst great rejoicin’ an playin’ o’ bands,
Both oud men an’ wimen had a smile on thair face,
For all wur dead certain it wur baan to tak’ place,
So thay fled to thair homes like bees to a hive,
Impashent an’ ankshus for th’ day to arrive.
Hasumever th’ day at wur menshun’d before,
An’ folk wur all flockin’ fro maantan an’ th’ moor,
An’ little thay thout wen thay set off that morn,
Another disaster wud laff ’em to scorn,
For Joe Stick wur sent out to tell ’em to stop
For poor Haworth Railway hed gotten i’ pop.
Na this wur a damper an’ th’ biggest i’th’ lot,
An th’ folks thay declared it wur Keighla plot,
But one Jack o’ Ludges sed he’d stop ’em thair prate,
He’a learn ’em i’ Keighla to insinuate,
Thay’st hev no excurshuns for nowt but thair lip,
And Shipla an’ Bradford shud hev the first trip.
He sed he’d been quiet, but he’d na interfere,
He